


Thousand

by GreyWeeknds



Series: 30 days writing challenge [23]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:30:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWeeknds/pseuds/GreyWeeknds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Grandpa?” the twentyish ginger haired girl asked as her two green orbs looked pleadingly at him.</p><p>“It’s Lindsay, do you remember me?” she asked again, waving a hand in front of his face.</p><p>“I know who you are.” He sighed, looking out on air, wishing that he could see those same emerald eyes in another person’s face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thousand

“Grandpa?” the twentyish ginger haired girl asked as her two green orbs looked pleadingly at him.

“It’s Lindsay, do you remember me?” she asked again, waving a hand in front of his face.

“I know who you are.” He sighed, looking out on air, wishing that he could see those same emerald eyes in another person’s face.

“How have you been? Mum says she misses you.” The girl said as stroked her hand over his wrinkly cheek.

The old man ignored her, not feeling to talk to her. Instead he just looked down on the floor, hands resting on the wheels on the side of his chair. He really hated the white walls in the room, this weird scent that smelled like somebody had already died.

It wasn’t fair that he had to sit here, waiting for the angel of death to finally reach out its hand to him. It wasn’t fair that he had to be only one of his friends that were still alive, while the other ones were resting peacefully in their graves. And it was certainly not fair that he had to sit here, in this clinical local with people that were just like him, waiting for dying, while his husband had left him a long time ago.

Even though it felt like it had went a thousand years since the last time that he could still hold him in his arms, kissing the dimples on his neck, it didn’t took the pain away. All he wanted to do was to bury his nose into those curls, hearing the birds tweet as the scent of the ocean surrounded them. He missed feeling the soft skin against his, hearing his lover telling him how beautiful his blue eyes was.

“Grandpa?”

He still didn’t want to answer the poor girl; it would be for the best if she just went away and never visited him again. Her mother had understood it that there was no point, that her father was in deep sorrow and that the rope was too short to save him.

Sometimes he imagined about the grey stone on that hill, seeing both of their names engraved into it, and not only Harry’s. He wanted to see the text  _‘Two beloved husbands, will be together to the infinity’._

Her narrowed eyes observed him deeply, but he tried to avoid her terrifying gaze. The thing that he liked the most about her was her delicate skin, just like the curly haired once had been. She reminded him a bit about his dead husband, but the hair colour was wrong. She didn’t have his pretty chocolate tone, hers was just red. He remembered when she had been just a little girl. She used to come home to them and Harry baked with her while Niall played his guitar, singing to her when she had to sleep. She had loved her then, but know he wasn’t even sure if he was capable of loving anymore.

“I’m sorry hun, but Mr. Styles’ a bit senile and he never speaks. It would be a wonder if you ever made him say more than a few words.” One of the workers said.

“Oh.” Lindsay said as she dried away one of the tears that had found its way from the corner of his dull eyes.

She raised herself from one of the chairs before she planted a kiss on his forehead, telling him that she would soon be here again.

He wished that her promise would be broken, that he would get the privilege to pass away before she had to see him again.

Before he drifted to sleep, a voice was playing inside of his head.  _‘Goodnight, Niall, I’ll see you soon’._


End file.
